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Tuesday’s
are the days I showcase my work on this blog. Today, I’d like to share a little
piece of a story that’s turned out to be one of my most popular. I’ve gotten a
number of appreciative emails from readers. They seem to love it, and I suspect
that’s because of its happily-ever-after ending. However, I’m currently writing
the sequel, and this new book will not be so happy on the last page.
Butterfly’s
Child by Alan Chin
Published
by Dreamspinner Press <dreamspinnerpress.com>
Pages: 274
A few
years ago, while there was considerable controversy about gay couples adopting
children in some southern states, I decided I needed to write something
regarding gay-parented families. I wanted to make a statement that traditional,
straight parents did not necessarily provide a better environment for children,
and that gay couples could provide a stable, loving atmosphere where kids could
flourish. This is a story I slowly, but assuredly
fell in love with through the telling – mostly because of the kids.
Blurb:
While back in the West to attend his
grandmother’s funeral, Cord Bridger uncovers two shocking revelations: his
grandmother had a lesbian lover named Juanita, and he has a teenaged son named
Kalin. Fate brings all three together, but to preserve his new family, Cord
must leave his safe life in New York City behind to carve a living from the
harsh ranch lands of Nevada.
To forge a life with Juanita and Kalin, Cord
must first discover the dark secret burning a hole in Kalin’s heart. With the
help of Tomeo, a handsome Japanese veterinarian, Cord travels a gut-wrenching
road of triumphs and tragedies to insure his son will survive the sinister
violence of his past. But as Tomeo becomes more than just a helpful friend to
Cord, a new set of problems arise between Cord and Kalin that may threaten the
happiness of them all.
Excerpt:
Cord
moseyed back to the porch swing and stayed there long after the rain had
stopped and the boys had gone to bed. A lustrous sheen spread over the work yard
as the moon peeked through the clouds. The light grew brighter as the clouds
parted, revealing a full and lovely silver face and throwing down bushels of
light.
The
Jeep pulled into the workyard and parked at the stone house. Tomeo went inside,
but he left the front door half open. A minute later a yellow light brightened
the interior, and Tomeo placed the lamp near the front window.
Cord
was thankful Tomeo didn’t restart the generator to have electric lights. The
lamplight glow brought a quiet comfort. A figure in the window drew Cord’s
attention.
Tomeo
stood with the curtains falling against his bare shoulder. He had shed his
shirt and leaned against the window frame. Cord studied the column of his neck,
the curve of his shoulders. His gaze traveled down the length of slender torso
to find a patch of white hugging the man’s waist. Yes, he had stripped down to
his briefs. A smile adorned his face, which meant he knew Cord sat in the
shadows, watching. His left arm raised and curled above his head, posing.
Cord
sucked in his breath and held it. The lamplight turned the slightly muscular
frame amber. It was the sexiest thing Cord had ever seen. It felt like a cool
river flowing through the middle of his chest.
Tomeo
moved away from the window, but Cord kept staring, hoping he would slip back
into view.
A
minute later the yellow lamplight moved to the bedroom window, spilling across
the workyard. The front door still hung open. Cord’s eyes went from the door,
to the bedroom window, to the door. His heart was not even thumping; the
invitation was clear enough. They had come to a silent understanding by using
the ancient language of flirting.
Cord
hesitated another moment, listening inside the big house to insure everything
was as it should be. He stood, still trying to decide what to do. He heard a
window opening upstairs. He cocked his head, listening to the slight stirring
from the boys. That was enough to cast a shadow of reservation across Tomeo’s
open door. Still, the prospect of making love to that sexy man pulled at
him—the intimate comfort, the pleasurable sharing of flesh and feelings. So
intimate, so pleasurable, that he knew he would not cross the workyard.
He
retreated to his own bedroom, stripped off his clothes, and settled under the
top sheet. Was it absurd, he wondered, to throw away a relationship with Tomeo
in order not to damage his fragile relationship with the boys? Could Tomeo be
some sort of wedge? Possibly—as much progress as he and Kalin had made, their
relationship was not wedge-proof.
He
felt confident he had made the right decision. However, he was too excited to
sleep. He lay awake in the darkness, naked, covered by the sheet. The thought
of Tomeo so close, stripped to his cotton briefs, had his mind sizzling. He
imagined pressing his cheek to that soft fabric, nuzzling the hardness hidden
beneath. He felt his flesh turn electric; hot sensations gathered in his groin.
He shook the thoughts from his head before his hand reached for his own
erection.
He
glanced at the nightstand. There in the moonlight, barely visible, was a book:
another of Tomeo’s texts on Buddhism. His scattered readings and occasional
attempts at meditation had not made him the least bit mindful. When he read the
text, he thought he understood the theory—nothing is permanent, everything is
in a constant state of change until it breaks down and dies, and this is why
attachment to things causes suffering. But he thought about the boys asleep
above him, and he wondered what was so damned wrong with attachments? Why shouldn’t we allow ourselves to love
wholly and break our hearts when it changes, fades, and dies? Isn’t the ecstasy
worth the pain? Or is there a middle ground? He had so many questions the
book failed to answer. He wanted to talk this over with Tomeo because he felt
he must be barreling down the wrong path. But he remembered the Buddha’s last
remarks: be your own light, work out your own salvation with diligence.
As he
stared up at the dark ceiling, he heard the back door creak, footsteps, then a
tall figure slipped into his room, still wearing those white cotton briefs. He
moved to the bed and knelt beside Cord. His hand slipped under the sheet, touching
Cord’s shoulder, then wandering down his flank, running in a smooth arc over
nipple and abdomen.
“What
are you doing?” Cord whispered.
“Taking
the bull by the horn,” Tomeo said as his fingers tightened around Cord’s
erection.
Cord
tried to protest, but before he could, his mouth was smothered by satiny lips.
Surprisingly, Tomeo’s breath tasted sweet; the life rising out of his throat
felt as hot as a furnace.
Tomeo
slowly, passionately, sucked away Cord’s breath, and with it went his
resistance. His fingers reached up, not to push away, but to stroke those
sunburnt cheeks and roam across neck and shoulders. He wrapped his arms round
Tomeo’s solid torso and drew him into the bed. Tomeo banged his head against
the headboard, and they both stifled a laugh.
Tomeo
stretched against him as their legs tangled in the sheet. Cord felt the
distended fabric of Tomeo’s shorts against his belly, heat waves enfolded him,
and their lips pressed into a continuous kiss. Cord was shocked at how good
this man felt, as though Tomeo reached deep into Cord’s body with velvet
fingers and caressed him from the inside out, setting fire to his nerve
endings, making him twist and rise and arch at Tomeo’s will, like a puppet
being manipulated by a master puppeteer. Cord had never experienced anything
like it. Nothing before this came close.
Tomeo
pulled away and whispered, “I love you, Cord Bridger, and I intend to do
whatever it takes to make a life with you.”
Cord
received those words all the way to his marrow. It felt satisfying and
simultaneously not enough. He buried a moan in the soft of Tomeo’s throat while
hugging him tightly enough to crack ribs. He needed to fuse with this hot skin
and be devoured. Cord kissed the man again, kisses that said yes, yes.
And
why not? What Tomeo’s books had taught him was that love is a peach. It’s ripe
for the briefest time. If not picked and eaten, it falls to the ground, turns
brown, and rots.
Other work by Alan Chin
Novels: The Plain Of Bitter Honey, Island
Song, The Lonely War, Match Maker, Simple Treasures
http://tinyurl.com/d54rtd (Examiner.com
articles)
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